


It's Like a Dream

by grassmoons



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Army!John, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Flashbacks, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassmoons/pseuds/grassmoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Like a Dream

It was like a dream. Like a dream where you’re falling. You’re not sure why, but you know you’re going to hit the ground, that it is inevitable. It’s a fear that can only be experienced, not described. The fear that your life is about to end and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

_“Sherlock, are you okay?”_   
_“Turn around and walk back the way you came.”_   
_“No, I’m coming in.”_   
_“Just do as I ask, please.”_   
_“Sherlock –“_   
_“Stop there. Okay, look up. I’m on the rooftop.”_   
_“Oh, God.”_

There’s nothing you can do to stop it. He heard the gunshot. He thought about how strange it was that the terrifying, loud, threatening noise came not from the bullet entering his body, doing the damage, stealing his life. It came from the machine that, without someone to aim and shoot, is harmless. It thudded softly into his flesh, tearing through skin and muscle. He was a doctor, he knew the pain was soon to follow. It’s like hitting the ground: inevitable.

_“I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this.”_   
_“What's going on?”_   
_“An apology. It's all true.”_   
_“What?”_   
_“Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty. “_   
_“Why are you saying this?”_   
_“I'm a fake.”_

It’s a fear that can only be experienced, not described. Holding a hand to your chest, feeling sticky blood seeping through your fingers. Knowing that this time it’s real, no this time it’s not a dream. Don’t be deceived, Dr. Watson, this time it’s not a dream.

_“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.”_   
_“Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?”_   
_“Nobody could be that clever.”_   
_“You could.”_   
_“I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It’s just a magic trick.”_

And then he hit the ground. Part of him tried to stand up, to defend his brothers, to fight until his last breath passed from his lungs and joined hundreds of last breaths blowing past him in the hot Middle Eastern wind. Let this horrible nightmare end. Please, God, let me live.

_“No. Alright, stop it now.”_   
_“No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move.”_   
_“Alright.”_   
_“Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?”_   
_“Do what?”_   
_“This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.”_

Live. He lived. He walked again, talked again, ate, drank, loved, danced, laughed. Life coursed through his veins with renewed vigor, precious seconds that almost didn’t get the chance to pass by. He remembered the smells of London, the feel of skin pressed against his own, the warmth of a smile washing over his face. The beauty of friendship, the beauty of love.

_“Leave a note when?”_   
_“Goodbye, John.”_   
_“No. Don't—“_

It was like a dream. Like a dream where you’re falling. You’re not sure why, but you know you’re going to hit the ground, that it is inevitable. It’s a fear that can only be experienced, not described. The fear that your life is about to end and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.


End file.
